


The Idyll and the Epic

by apollo77



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, But it gets better I promise, Enjolras is kind of an asshole, Fights, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollo77/pseuds/apollo77
Summary: Enjolras kicks Grantaire out of a meeting, only to find him getting beaten up afterword. Enjolras feels the need to intervene.





	The Idyll and the Epic

Enjolras’ hands shook with anger as Grantaire argued with him on a topic that was very important to him. The cause was based on the idea of the freedom for the LGBT community. Enjolras was almost certain that Grantaire was at least bisexual, as he had seen Grantaire hang around with sleazy men in flirty ways, so he didn’t understand why Grantaire had to have such a pessimistic and cynical outlook on the cause. Maybe it was because Grantaire himself was just a cynical person and believed in absolutely nothing, except that he did believe in one thing but Enjolras did not know this yet.  
“Grantaire! Please shut your selfish mouth! You’re talking nonsense! Your ideas are worthless and absolutely idiotic! If you have no motivation in helping the cause, just leave! Why do you even come to these meetings when all you do is argue with me? Just leave!” Enjolras screamed at Grantaire, his arms flailing around, and his face was so red, you couldn’t even compare it to a ripe tomato.  
Grantaire stood still for a moment, so shocked and distraught. Enjolras had left him speechless, something he usually only did with his looks. His hesitance must’ve struck something within Enjolras, as Enjolras almost screamed, “Did I stutter?”  
Grantaire quickly picked up his bottle of wine and grabbed his coat from off the wooden chair he felt like he might collapse into.  
“Good night to you,” he merely muttered, his boots being the only thing producing noise in the completely silent room. Everyone was still, watching Grantaire walk out of the cafe.  
“Stop drinking while you’re at it! It makes you act foolish!” Enjolras yelled at him while he walked out the door.  
The atmosphere in the room became awkward and uncomfortable, everyone sharing concerned looks with each other, not knowing what to do.  
“You shouldn't have said that, Enjolras,” Jehan spoke softly as the others all looked at him. “He’s more sensitive than you think,” Jehan then looked at the group, an embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks. Courfeyrac grabbed Jehan’s hand in a comforting way as he looked up at Enjolras.  
“That was out of line, Enjolras. You’re never considerate of his feelings. Why do you always have to yell at him? He’s done nothing to you,” Courfeyrac reasoned. Courfeyrac was the only one who could really get through to Enjolras, as they had been bestfriends since they were infants.  
Enjolras’ eyes looked around wildly, not sure of what to say. An inner guilt began to creep up on him, making him grow increasingly uncomfortable, as he was so used to the inner pride and determination he usually felt. His eyes halted when he saw the expression on Eponine’s face. She looked like she was about to explode. Enjolras opened his mouth to say something to her but she got the first word in.  
“You’re such a fucking asshole! He has feelings! Why don’t you recognize that? He fucking adores you and in return, you just treat him like shit! You’re ridiculous. I’ve never met someone so heartless!” she screamed, Combeferre trying to hold her back from pouncing on Enjolras. She wriggled out of his grip, swiftly walking up to Enjolras and coming very close to his face. She stood still, looking up at him with a completely enraged look on her face. He was afraid she might slap him, and honestly, he would’ve taken it. He deserved it. After several moments of Eponine just standing there, she whispered, “You make me sick.” and quickly walked out of the cafe, slamming the door behind her.  
“Shit,” Combeferre whispered and got up. As he ran after her, Enjolras’ eyes did not leaving his back.  
Enjolras stood still again, no one else moving. Slowly, members started to get up and leave the cafe, awkwardly saying goodbye to Enjolras. When Enjolras was finally alone, he sat into one of the chairs and rubbing his eyes. He let out a long sigh and stood up to gather his things. He slowly shrugged his coat on and said goodbye to the bartender.  
The cold streets of Paris stung his exposed skin, making his cheeks red and tender. He dug his face farther into his scarf, wondering why he was walking in the opposite direction of his apartment. He soon realized he was heading towards the bad part of Paris, the part where Grantaire lived, once with Eponine but she now moved to the wealthier part of Paris with Combeferre.  
“I’m such a fucking asshole,” Enjolras muttered to himself. He’s done this before, the result of Grantaire’s fate afterword not ending well. He’s never gone after Grantaire but his friends have. One day Enjolras exploded at Grantaire, almost pouring Grantaire’s wine in his hair. A few hours later, Enjolras received a text from Combeferre about how Eponine found Grantaire passed out at his favorite bar. Combeferre claimed that Grantaire had just about drank himself to death. Enjolras would not let that happen again, at least not because of him.  
Enjolras found himself passing an alleyway, hearing grunts and yells from it. He looked down the alleyway, seeing three men beating another man.  
It was sad for Enjolras to watch until he realized who it was. He noticed the glint of light from a golden pin worn upon the man's coat. It was the pin Enjolras had handed out to Les Amis de l’ABC with the equality symbol on it. It all clicked in Enjolras’ head. It was Grantaire.  
Enjolras ran down the alleyway, ripping one guy away, pushing him back and punching him. At this point, the two other men noticed, leaving Grantaire to focus on Enjolras. Enjolras was not intimidated at all, but felt a fear creep up in him, as he was a well built man and relatively strong but could not take on three large men who obviously had been in fights before.  
The three men stared at Enjolras while he stared right back at them. Enjolras was suddenly pushed against the brick wall behind him, his back hitting hard, knocking the air out of him.  
“Well, pretty boy, what are you doin? Punching him like that wasn’t the best idea,” The man smirked at Enjolras, placing his two hands on his neck. The man wasn’t pressing too hard yet but it still was an uncomfortable positions for Enjolras.  
“You sure are attractive aren’t you?” The man spoke while running a finger down Enjolras’ smooth, pronounced cheek bone. He continued tracing his face until he reached his jaw bone, tightly grabbed Enjolras’ chin and tugging his face forward. “You really shouldn’t have hurt my buddy,” the man whispered, so close to Enjolras’ face.  
The man reached for his pocket, pulling out a small pocket knife and flicking it open. He soon held the metal edge up to Enjolras’ face, placing it upon his cheek. The man started laughing hysterically. Enjolras’ eyes went to Grantaire who was on the ground and watching the situation unfolding.  
“My, my, my, you’re very pretty. Wouldn’t it be so sad if you became ugly like him?” The man spoke, motioning towards Grantaire with his head.  
“He’s not ugly, you fucking asshole,” Enjolras clenched his teeth, growing angrier by the minute.  
“I’ll spare you under one rule. You let me fuck you. I’ll find somewhere. It’s your choice, pretty boy,” The man’s smile was disturbing to witness. Enjolras paused for a moment, eyes locked on the man. He soon spit in the man's face, immediately getting pushed farther into the brick wall.  
Enjolras’ head was tightly held onto by the man, watching as the man dug the tip of his knife into Enjolras’ cheek.  
“You fucked up right there, buddy,” the man said as he dug the knife down Enjolras’ cheek.  
Enjolras felt the warm blood trickle down his face as the man laughed. The two other men were behind him, one looking a bit regretful, while the other laughed. Enjolras then felt a fist connect with his nose, his head swinging back and hitting the wall behind him.  
Before Enjolras could get hit again, he felt the man being ripped off him. Enjolras looked up, seeing Grantaire tearing the man away from him and throwing him to the ground. Enjolras then tackled one of the other men who was about to attack Grantaire. The third man went sprinting down the alleyway, clearly afraid of getting the shit beaten out of him.  
“You fucking idiot!” one of the men screamed at the man who was now out of sight.  
Enjolras kicked the man multiple times in the stomach until he was groaning in pain. He then looked over at Grantaire, who was mercilessly punching the man who hurt Enjolras. It was like a monster had come over him. Grantaire then picked up the knife off the ground that had been dropped. Enjolras then went into action, grabbing Grantaire’s hands, holding them back.  
“Fuck off, Apollo! I need to do this! Let go of me you asshole!” Grantaire screamed. Enjolras didn’t let go, only forcing the knife out of Grantaire’s hands.  
“Come on, Grantaire. Let’s go home,” Enjolras whispered, tugging Grantaire down the alleyway. Enjolras then tasted blood in his mouth, realizing his nose was bleeding quite profusely. It seemed that Grantaire was in much better shape than Enjolras was, though he was just being beaten badly.  
As soon as they were in the clear, Enjolras stopped them, leaning over, out of breath.  
“Why would you pick a fight with them? Are you an idiot?” Enjolras asked.  
“He was shit talking your cause. He called you a faggot. I couldn’t stand to hear that,” Grantaire mumbled.  
Enjolras paused to think for a moment before stating, “Our cause.”  
Grantaire stopped to stare a him, a warm feeling overcoming his body. He didn’t know what to think.  
Enjolras offered him a kind smile, starting to walk again. “I get called that all the time, Grantaire. It doesn't matter. Just pay no attention to it.”  
Grantaire rolled his eyes but said nothing.  
“We’re going to my apartment. I have proper medical supplies,” Enjolras demanded, tugging Grantaire’s shoulder with one hand while his other hand held onto his nose. Blood was beginning to seep through his fingers. Enjolras then took off his red scarf, holding it to his nose.  
He noticed Grantaire was staring at him while they walked. “Hurts like a bitch,” Enjolras mumbled.  
“Sorry I got you into this mess,” Grantaire said hesitantly, noticing the cut on Enjolras’ cheek would most likely scar, meaning his normally flawless skin would now have an imperfection to it.  
“You didn’t do anything. I was the one who decided to get involved. I could’ve walked right past it. I saw it was you. I couldn’t leave you like that.” Enjolras wasn’t even looking at Grantaire, the words slipping out of his mouth like he wasn’t overthinking everything he was saying, something Grantaire was experiencing.  
A smile spread across Grantaire’s face after he heard that, not responding. They walked in a comfortable silence, a bit closer together than Grantaire expected. When they finally arrived at Enjolras’ apartment, Grantaire was expecting something middle class. Something small but homey. When Enjolras walked into the lobby, he was greeted by a plump doorman who looked very tired.  
“Good evening, Mr. Enjolras,” it took a minute for him to realize that Enjolras was bleeding all over. “Oh my god. Sir, are you alright?” The doorman got up on his two feet, leaning over the desk.  
“Yes, yes. Everything is alright, Javert. There is no reason to worry,” Enjolras strutted past him. Grantaire stood, looking at the beautiful lobby while the doorman, Javert, watched him. Everything was marble and shining.  
“Come on,” Enjolras used his spare hand to tug Grantaire along, as the other was still holding his scarf to his nose. They stood in the elevator, eyes not meeting, as Grantaire was beginning to feel more awkward. He knew his friends lived in wealthier parts of the city but this was nothing close to what he imagined. He knew Combeferre and Courfeyrac had two, spacious, yet humble apartments. They were each nice but nothing extravagant. It was them living off of what their families had given them and the current income of their jobs. Grantaire never really thought about it but when he did, he understood where all this wealth had come from for Enjolras. Grantaire knew that Enjolras grew up rich. From what Enjolras would tell their friends, he got whatever he wanted whenever he wanted which is why he was the way he was. He understood what real life was like, not just the life of a spoiled rich boy. Although he wasn’t spoiled, nor selfish, he still inherited lots of money from his parents. Grantaire was aware that Enjolras never had to work a day in his life due to the absurd amount of money he was given, but appreciated the fact that he was still a lawyer and worked extremely hard.  
When they got to Enjolras’ floor, it only took them a couple of seconds to get to Enjolras’ door. Enjolras unlocked it and opened it. A scent of cinnamon and coffee hit Grantaire’s face as he entered. As soon as he walked in, he saw a beautiful kitchen with black and white as the color design. The apartment was huge. A large window overlooked the city. His living room was spacious and full of books. A round staircase made its way to the upper level of the apartment, and that’s all Grantaire could see from where he was standing.  
“Please sit down,” Enjolras motioned to one of the white high chairs by his kitchen countertop. He wandered into a hallway, leaving Grantaire alone. Grantaire refused to move, afraid he might break something. When Enjolras finally came back, his nose was covered with an icepack he was holding. The bleeding had stopped. The cut on his cheek had several proper looking bandages over it. He had a first aid kit in his other hand. Grantaire was amazed by Enjolras, somehow still looking godly though he had just been hurt badly. Grantaire had almost forgotten about his own injuries, Enjolras reminding him by saying, “I think it would be best if you took off your shirt.”  
Grantaire almost misunderstood the comment, thinking that Enjolras wanted him undressed for his own pleasure. Grantaire looked down at his brown beat up leather jacket and his green and white flannel that now had blood stains on them.  
“I... uh… I don’t think I should,” Grantaire mumbled, afraid of his appearance but also the fact that he’d most definitely get a hard on if Enjolras laid a single hand on his bare flesh.  
Enjolras paused for a moment before speaking. “Don’t worry, Grantaire. I promise it won’t hurt too bad. I’ll be gentle.”  
Grantaire began hesitantly unbuttoning his flannel, his slightly chubby and broad chest being shown. He knew he wasn’t fat, he was a boxer in his own time, but he did have burns all down his torso. Cigarette burns, lighter burns, just burns. They were old but still there. His torso was also covered with bruises, black, blue, and purple. Some bleeding, some not.  
“Lie down over there, please,” Enjolras spoke softly.  
Grantaire moved over to Enjolras’ almost too comfy couch, sinking right in. Enjolras began wiping the blood away and Grantaire let his mind wonder. The apartment was much too big for Enjolras to live alone. He must’ve had guests all the time but by the way Enjolras was, Grantaire had never heard of an event ever happening there. The couch was so soft and Grantaire felt his body drifting away from reality as Enjolras was fixing him. He didn’t know how long he had been out, a couple of minutes at most, because when he woke up he noticed lots of blood covered tissues on the floor and bandages all over his stomach. Enjolras was kneeling in front of the couch, his head buried in one arm while the other arm was tracing one of Grantaire’s burns. He immediately got goosebumps. He didn’t know what to do. The feeling was heavenly. Enjolras suddenly lifted his head when he heard Grantaire take a sharp breath of air in. The movement of his hand stopped but he kept it on top of the burn he was circling.  
“I’m sorry,” Grantaire murmured, scared to say anything else.  
“Don’t apologize. If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” Enjolras asked, looking into his eyes.  
Grantaire’s stomach was ablaze, his cheeks most definitely turning red. “Just angsty teenager shit. I didn’t fit in and was made fun of so I just resorted to that,” he shrugged.  
Enjolras left out a small ‘oh’ and pulled his hand back. The silence was no longer comfortable and each of them no longer knew what to say. Enjolras finally broke the silence by saying, “I have a guest room. You can stay in there. I don’t want you going home this late. You can borrow clothes if you want but I suggest maybe sleeping without a shirt on so your stomach cuts can have a chance to breathe.” Grantaire chuckled a bit, sitting up. Enjolras then stood up with a slight, “Come,” tugging Grantaire up. Grantaire grabbed his ratty flannel, holding it in front of his stomach to cover himself up.  
They walked through the apartment and up the winding staircase. The hallway wasn’t very long, about 4 or 5 doors along it. Enjolras walked to one, opening it and inviting Grantaire in. It must’ve been his bedroom by the way the walls were red and there was a king sized, messy bed with red covers.  
“Ah, I shouldn’t have expected anything less than red walls,” Grantaire chuckled.  
Enjolras didn’t reply, determined to finish his task in finding Grantaire pants to wear. Enjolras knew Grantaire was slightly chubby so he rummaged around his pants drawer for a bigger pair than his normal extra small.  
“I apologize for my unkind words earlier. They were inappropriate and I did not mean them in any way,” Enjolras said, feeling Grantaire’s eyes bore into his back.  
Grantaire froze, not used to Enjolras apologizing.  
“There’s no need to apologize, especially when everything you said was true,” Grantaire spoke out, sounding bitter but not meaning to.  
Enjolras stood up, pajama bottoms in hand. He walked close to Grantaire, too close. He was a short arms length away and Grantaire could hear Enjolras breathing. They stood, staring at each other. Enjolras’ nose was starting to bruise, a color that didn’t belong on such flawless skin, yet he somehow still looked attractive. After a minute of just breathing together, Enjolras extended his arm slightly, offering the bottoms to Grantaire.  
“Thank you,” Grantaire spoke.  
“I’ll show you the guest room,” Enjolras pushed past Grantaire, expecting him to follow.  
Once in the hallway, Enjolras pushed open the closest door to his room. Instead of the deep red of Enjolras’ room, the room was painted a dull grey. There was not much in it and looked as if it hadn’t been touched in months, though not a speck of dust could be found. A large bed could be found in the middle of the room, with two nightstands on each side of it. One had a lamp placed upon it while the other had a clock. There were two large windows that had a nice view of the city, yet Grantaire was distracted by a much bigger presence of beauty, Enjolras.  
“I bid you a goodnight,” Enjolras paused, “And I will see you in the morning,” he finished. He walked out the door, closing it softly.  
Grantaire was left in the room, alone, holding the pajama bottoms while his stomach started to suddenly ache from the many bruises. He slipped off his jeans, careful to keep himself from moving his stomach too much. Even the pajama bottoms were slightly tight on him, causing him to feel insecure. He threw his flannel somewhere in the room, slipping under the white sheets and turning off the lamp.  
The dark room was somewhat illuminated by the windows, small rays of dim light shining through, making Grantaire feel sad. Here he was, in the apartment of the man he had loved for months on end, beaten up, and wishing he could just be laying with his ray of light in the next room over. It seemed all so familiar, the feeling of loneliness that overtook him. Usually when Grantaire would feel like this, he would grab a glass of whisky and become slightly numb but now he couldn’t because he knew Enjolras didn’t drink and wouldn’t have a drop of alcohol in the entire loft.  
Grantaire tossed and turned for what seemed like hours until he checked the clock again. 4:00 AM. He groaned softly, sitting up from the bed. The bed was extremely comfortable yet Grantaire couldn’t find himself comfortable enough to fall asleep. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, groaning again, louder this time. He swung his legs off the bed, forcing himself up. He walked over to the window and looked out upon the city. He could see the few cars and hear the hushed noises of the city in the very earlier morning. Grantaire came across the realization as he looked up into the pollution covered sky that all he needed in the moment was to feel Enjolras. To have his arms wrapped around him and smell his scent up close.  
Grantaire found his feet carrying him to the door without him thinking about it. He opened the door, then walked out, rethinking his decision. He stood in front of Enjolras’ door and stared at the white paint that was laid out perfectly upon it. He slowly, softly, opened the door, trying not to make much noise. His eyes immediately landed on Enjolras, who very much was not asleep. Enjolras was sitting on his bed, writing fiercely into a notebook but stopped as soon as he heard the door opening.  
Grantaire froze, embarrassed and feeling utterly stupid, saying, “Oh god- I- I thought this was the bathroom.”  
Grantaire was afraid that Enjolras would think he was a creep. “I- I’ll be going. Goodnight!” Grantaire rushed.  
Just before Grantaire could close the door, he heard Enjolras softly say, “Grantaire, come here.”  
Grantaire was even more afraid then he was previously. Enjolras was probably going to kick him out.  
Grantaire stood by his bed, too nervous to actually sit down. Just in that moment, he also realized he was shirtless. Growing more and more insecure, he crossed his arms over his chest.  
“Please sit,” Enjolras motioned towards the bed and continued after Grantaire sat. “I admire you,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.  
Grantaire was shocked, feeling his cheeks grow red. “Thanks?” Grantaire questioned.  
“I know you admire me too, I’ve been told by the others,” Enjolras said. Grantaire had no  
idea where he was going with this but he was a nervous wreck, shaking slightly.  
Enjolras then shut his notebook, discarding it to the side of the bed and moved himself closer to Grantaire.  
“Though your cynicism is highly annoying, it delights me.” Grantaire had no idea what to say to that. He was speechless. “You delight me,” Enjolras finished.  
Grantaire took a sharp breath of air, finding it hard to contain. His stomach felt like it was exploding.  
“May I touch you,” Enjolras asked, not looking nervous at all.  
“If that’s what you want,” Grantaire merely whispered.  
Enjolras reached out to Grantaire’s chest, placing his hand right above Grantaire’s heart. He scooted closer, closing the small space that was in between them. Enjolras began running his hands down Grantaire’s wasit, being careful of the bruises laid upon Grantaire’s stomach. . Grantaire felt himself getting goosebumps, feeling himself grow hard. He tried to contain it.  
Enjolras suddenly looked up again, saying with confidence, “May I kiss you?”  
Grantaire slightly nodded his head, afraid if he spoke the words would come out all jumbled.  
Enjolras leaned his head in, their lips meeting. The first kiss was short and sweet, Enjolras pulling away quickly. They stared at each other, seeming afraid of what the other might say. As no words were spoken between the two, Enjolras made a decision in his head to kiss Grantaire again, but this time harder, longer.  
Enjolras leaned in again, with force this time, pushing Grantaire back slightly. Grantaire grabbed onto his face, pushing against it. He made sure to avoid the cheek with the knife cut upon it, as it was bandaged up but still sore. As for Enjolras’ nose, Grantaire also avoided hitting as well.  
The kiss was hot and Grantaire felt like he was arguing with Enjolras through it. He could almost taste the passion and the devotion in it, growing more excited by the minute.  
Enjolras pulled away, still holding Grantaire’s face, and said, “I like you.”  
Grantaire almost chuckled saying back, “I like you too.”  
Enjolras grabbed one of Grantaire’s hands, squeezing it. “Please stay with me tonight,” Enjolras pleaded softly.  
“Of course,” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras then leaned back onto his mattress, bringing Grantaire down with him. Grantaire was unsure what to do, but felt butterflies explode in his stomach when he felt Enjolras’ arms wrap around him. He felt kisses being placed upon his head, warming his entire body.  
“We’ll talk in the morning,” Enjolras said, sounding sleepy. “Goodnight, R.” Enjolras finished.  
“Goodnight, Apollo,” Grantaire smiled. With Enjolras’ arms around him, he realized suddenly his bruises weren’t hurting as bad as before.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading! This is my first story on AO3! Leave kudos if you'd like! :)


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